Hearts of Three
by KianSpo
Summary: Sometimes two friends fall in love with the same man. Bones/Spock and Kirk/Spock. Sad.


**A/N**: A short story, written on a prompt from **winsista**: a Kirk/Spock/Bones triangle...further description will be retelling of the story. I don't know if that's what she had in mind, but that's what my mind came up with.

**Warnings**: Sad. Non-graphic sexual themes. Language. Open end.

* * *

"I'm in love with him."

McCoy blinks, then stares.

"Come again?"

Jim looks at him so seriously that it looks like he's snagged that expression from someone.

"I'm in love with Spock," he repeats. "I think."

"You _think_?"

Jim plunges into a babbling explanation about his mixed feelings and crossed signals, and how Spock's never been easy to read, but he can _feel_ they're meant to be together, star-crossed lovers, soulmates and all that jazz. He talks and talks, spilling words like a regurgitating black hole, but McCoy doesn't listen.

He thinks about another conversation. It took place right here, two months earlier. And Jim wasn't there.

* * *

"It is difficult for me to talk about emotions," Spock says. "But I have encountered a difficulty I cannot work out through meditation. I have been sexually attracted to the captain for some time. I believe I might have developed deeper feelings for him as well."

Trust Spock to put the most delicate thing ever so bluntly. McCoy looks at him, looks at the slightly stooped line of his usually painfully straight shoulders, takes in the haunted, pained look in those usually impenetrable dark eyes – and wants to hit him.

Yes, Jim Kirk is his best friend, and McCoy's totally stupid about him, but it doesn't mean he doesn't know Jim.

Jim, who's not a bad person at all, but who'd still sleep with anything that moves. Jim, who says insensitive shit to his closest friends while drunk and then makes his puppy dog eyes at them in the morning, not always bothering with an apology. Jim, who told McCoy when they had just started on their five-year mission that Spock and Uhura were totally hot and he'd have a threesome with them anytime at all. Jim, who takes nothing seriously, not even his life.

"Doctor?" And suddenly Spock's looking at him with such trust that it hurts. "I know you and I don't often see eye to eye, but... I am in need of advice. I find myself... confused."

McCoy closes his eyes, because if Spock has come for advice to _him_, he's really in, deep. The very thought of how much it cost Spock to say those words to him throws him.

It's been over two years since McCoy first called Spock a pointy-eared bastard. He's still that, McCoy thinks, but also so much more. Spock is a lot of things – a lot of things Jim will never see.

Spock talks like a heartless son of a bitch, but acts like Robin Hood was his childhood hero. Spock thinks Surak would have liked the _Rubaiyat_. Spock stands up when a woman walks into the room. Spock has a thing for soft cheeses he is embarrassed to admit that's why he never eats them. Spock can play his harp from dusk to dawn to a dying child in McCoy's Sick Bay. Spock throws himself on the line for everyone and bitches when someone gets there first.

"I'm sorry, Spock, but I'm not the right person for you to talk to about this," McCoy says bitterly. "It's not that I don't want to help you. It's just that I'm... biased."

Spock stares at him for a long time, and there's no accusation in his face nor anger.

"You are in love with Jim?"

"No," McCoy says and forces himself to look Spock in the eye. "I'm in love with you."

For two and a half years, it has been his wildest dream to come up with something that would shut Spock up forever. If only he knew it would be so easy...

"You are being serious."

McCoy grits his teeth. Spock couldn't sound any more incredulous. Why is it so hard for him to believe McCoy can actually love him?

"Like a heart attack."

"I..." Spock pauses. "I have feelings for you, also. But... I am not certain as to what they are."

"You're confused," McCoy nods. "I get it."

"You are intelligent," Spock says. "Physically attractive." McCoy blushes. "Your mannerisms are annoying, albeit entertaining. Your emotional reactions—"

"Spock," McCoy cuts him off. "I'm not pressing you for anything, but please don't dissect me to my face. You're confused. Go figure it out, then we'll talk."

And just like that, Spock leaves.

Three days later, they pick up a passenger, a Federation envoy, who's blonde, tall, and bitchy. Jim hits on her like he's Zeus and she's Europa. She's bitchy, but not stupid, so she makes him do cartwheels before actually letting him into her bed.

Spock watches the spectacle for two days then turns up at McCoy's doorstep.

"I will not lie to you," he says.

"I will not ask you to," McCoy replies.

No words are said after that except for some most simplistic ones. The night is sleepless, but eventful. It's the first one of many.

* * *

Jim is still talking. McCoy watches his mouth move and entertains himself by trying to read his lips. He's still incapable of actually _hearing_ anything Jim is saying.

He loves Jim. He really does. Jim Kirk is a man of extremes. He's either a bastard or an angel at any given time, and people either love him or hate him with a passion. Seeing that insufferable smirk on his lips, one either wants to smack him or kiss him, but nobody just shrugs and goes.

The thing is, McCoy knows Jim, he really does. He'd seen Jim hop from bed to bed, being only gentleman enough not to forget the name until the thanks-for-the-fuck kiss. He knows, too, why Jim is like that, that he's messed-up, and insecure, and everything, and McCoy really wants to help.

It's not that he doesn't believe that Jim can stop being a douchebag and actually fall in love. It's just – how does he know this is it? How does he know Spock isn't just a shiny new toy for Jim, unattainable and therefore twice as wanted? With anyone else, McCoy would tell Jim to suck it up and try to make it work. With Spock... He isn't ready to risk Spock.

It dawns on him then that Jim isn't asking for his permission, but for advice. Jim doesn't know about him and Spock. Unlike Jim, both Spock and McCoy are uncompromising introverts, born with the instinct to be discreet. Jim knows that Spock and McCoy don't get along. He always has to referee for them, on the bridge or planetside, acting like a buffer between his XO and his CMO.

What Jim doesn't know is that Spock comes to McCoy's cabin roughly every night. Jim doesn't know that the two of them can actually be in a room together and not talk at all. Jim doesn't know that they can talk, too, and that Spock is probably the only person who's ever heard Leonard H. McCoy speak in _that_ voice or about _those_ things. Jim isn't there when their banter turns into foreplay, and the next day when they are in public, they start their slow built anew, and the comments go right over Jim's head.

I should have told him, McCoy thinks. He should have told Jim about him and Spock after it became clear that it wasn't a one-night stand. He should have – but he didn't. Jim would have teased them both to death, and for all his snark, McCoy didn't want Spock to go through that.

Spock never speaks about his feelings again, confused or otherwise. McCoy doesn't ask him. If there was a last nail to be hammered into his coffin and make him lose any hope of ever not being in love with Spock, it was sleeping with him. And they hit it in just fine.

_Spock's lips melting under his__. Spock's body pliant and burning in his arms. Spock's hands branding his skin, touching more than just his body. The sound Spock makes when he comes. The way Spock trembles through his orgasm, vulnerable and trusting his lover to hold him, guide him, keep him safe._

McCoy shuts his eyes briefly. He will never understand how Uhura could have let Spock go. The woman is either saint or insane. And Jim. Can he give Spock to Jim? Does he even have a choice?

Spock and Jim are still thick as thieves, and McCoy knows, just _knows_ that the moment Jim gathers enough courage and confesses his feelings, Spock will be gone. McCoy knows he won't even be in the competition.

"Bones? Have you heard a word I said?"

Oh God. Jim is his best friend. _His best friend_. He'd die for him if need be. He actually did, a couple of times.

Spock is...

Goddammit! If only he could be certain that if he walks out, they'd live happily ever after. If only he could be certain that if Jim fucks it up, there would be enough pieces left of Spock to collect. Maybe then he'd have some reassurance that he won't fall to pieces himself when Spock leaves him for Jim. And if Spock doesn't... Will Jim ever forgive him?

"I'm sorry, kid, my head's just killin' me. Must be the whiskey."

Jim smirks. "Had too much of your own medicine?"

"Something like that."

"It's okay, Bones. I was just rambling anyway. About your favorite hobgoblin."

"He's not my favorite," McCoy snaps before he thinks. "He's just the only one."

Jim gives him a strange look, then gets up and leaves, wishing him goodnight.

McCoy drops his head to his hands and groans.

* * *

Spock doesn't ask him when McCoy presses him against the wall in his cabin and shoves his tongue down his throat. He doesn't even give McCoy an eyebrow, but he knows something is wrong. He must know. He's a shrewd bastard and McCoy always makes love to him with refined sophistication, Valmont style. He never grabs and takes, but he does now, and Spock must suspect something.

But he doesn't ask.

He doesn't ask when McCoy does a quick job on their clothes and rips Spock's tunic in his haste. He doesn't ask when McCoy sinks his teeth into his skin, bites, licks, and marks him all over. He doesn't ask when McCoy swats away his hand reaching for the lube and uses nothing but his spit instead.

And then Spock just holds him while he cries silently and ceaselessly, like it's his job, and listens to the endless, desperate litany of, I love you.

_Iloveyouloveyouloveyou_

* * *

McCoy knows it won't last forever. He also knows it'll be ultimately up to Spock, and of course, it is. It only was a matter of time.

But he is still unprepared when he sees an unconscious, critically wounded Jim being hauled into Sick Bay, and Spock, who's walking at his side, one hand glued to Jim's face. He's stabilizing Jim with a mind-meld, and a quick scan tells McCoy that if it weren't for that, Jim would have been dead already.

He operates, quickly. Efficiently. He's a professional. He doesn't let his thoughts wander when there's a patient fighting for his life on his table. He ignores Spock's presence, up until the moment when Jim is out of the woods, stable enough to let his body breathe on its own.

Spock looks up at him, and McCoy knows he knows. Jim was never much on keeping this kind of secret. McCoy doesn't sigh, just barks an order at one of the nurses. He most certainly _doesn't watch_ as Spock runs his hand through Jim's hair once, gently. Then he walks out, without looking at anyone, leaving McCoy to patch up the captain.

When Jim opens his eyes five hours later, he focuses on McCoy immediately. McCoy holds a glass to his lips and supports him up so that he can drink.

"I know you know," McCoy says quietly. "You don't need to call me a bastard, I know I am. But just for the record, I didn't steal him from you. He wasn't yours when I..." he trails off.

Jim sinks back into the pillows and says nothing. McCoy sighs.

"Guess I stand corrected. He's always been yours."

A hand closes around his wrist. "Bones."

Startled, McCoy looks up to meet Jim's eyes. Electric fucking blue. Old eyes on a young face.

"I'm sorry."

McCoy lets out a breath and nods.

"Yeah. Me too."

* * *

Spock visits Jim just once during his two-day recovery. Running the ship on his own must keep him busy, McCoy muses. He watches them play chess through the glass. He doesn't talk to either of them and doesn't interrupt.

Jim is quiet when McCoy examines him before discharging. Quiet and sad, and McCoy thinks that it's awfully unfair that in addition to his lover he must now lose a friend, too.

He walks into his quarters later in the evening and picks up a glass and a bottle of very much illegal Romulan ale. He sets both on his desk, uncorks the bottle and pours himself a glass, but doesn't drink. He waits.

Spock enters without a buzz. McCoy looks at him, allowing his eyes to roam over the lean, _perfect_ form freely one last time. He meets Spock's eyes and smiles. Shakes his head.

"Don't say it. I already know it, Spock. I don't need to hear it."

McCoy's hand tightens its grip on the glass and he whirls the liquid inside experimentally. He expects Spock to leave, but the Vulcan remains motionless, and still very much _right there_.

"Leonard," Spock says, and McCoy's eyes fly to his face of their own volition. "I love you."

McCoy's heart skips a beat, and for a moment, all he sees is white. But then his vision clears, and his jaw clenches painfully.

"You love Jim, too."

"Yes," Spock says simply.

McCoy scoffs. "I never liked Jack London. And you don't look like the little lady of a big ship anyway."

Spock lifts an eyebrow. "We should be grateful for small mercies."

McCoy glares at him. "You think it's funny?"

"No, Leonard. I most certainly do not find anything about our situation humorous."

"Don't fret, Spock. It's not the end of the world. So you've fallen in love with two people. You're hardly the first person in the galaxy that it's happened to."

"Indeed." Spock looks at him carefully. "I see you are settled for the night." He nods at the bottle.

"I sure am. I was just waiting for you to get it over with to get started."

"I see. In that case, I will take my leave of you now."

McCoy snorts bitterly. Spock waits a moment longer, then walks toward the door.

"Tell Jim I said hi," McCoy says, not because he's a dick, but because it hurts. Just. That. Much.

Spock pauses in the doorway, glancing back at him across his shoulder. McCoy doesn't look up. The door slides shut.

* * *

"You knew about this," Jim accuses.

"No, Jim!" McCoy is stunned. "No, I swear to God, I had no idea."

"Well, you should have! You're the one who's been sleeping with him for three months!"

"And you're the one who's been in his head! From day one! If anyone should have suspected something, it's you!"

"Respectfully, sirs." Uhura lifts up her head long enough to glare at them through her tears. "Would the two of you SHUT UP?"

They do. There's nothing but silence and darkness on the observation deck, penetrated only by the starlight and the rich, deep sound of Spock's voice. They remain silent long after the transmission ends.

"He took himself out of the equation," Jim says finally.

"He wanted us to remain friends."

"Yeah, well. How do you think that'll work out?"

"You're both assholes," Uhura says. She's sitting on the deck, hugging her knees. "It wasn't his fault. It wasn't yours. Either of you. It wasn't your fault. It's not something anyone can control."

McCoy purses his lips. "I was ready to step out. With all that soulmates crap and all, who was I to stand in the way?" He meets Jim's eyes. "I wouldn't have given you any grief, Jim."

Jim shakes his head. "You were ready to step out. I was ready to never step in. Really, Bones. Do you honestly think I'm that kind of jerk? I love you more than I ever loved my own brother. If I knew about you and him, if _you told me_ about it in the first place, I would never have said anything."

"It doesn't matter." McCoy closes his eyes tiredly. "He'd have found out anyway. Jim. This is pointless. We can't change anything."

"I don't believe in the no-win scenario," Jim says stubbornly.

"Really?" McCoy lashes. "What's the fucking win here, Jim? Huh? It's your job to find solutions, so tell me, what do you think either of us could do to turn this into a fucking win?!"

His voice reverberates unpleasantly in the room empty but for the three of them. Jim slams his fist into a bulkhead, but doesn't say anything.

McCoy takes in a shuddering breath. "I need a drink."

"Because that's _your_ solution to anything."

"Fuck you, Jim. I didn't ask for any of this to happen."

"There's a shocker. None of us did." He looks over at McCoy and suddenly his glare loses its edge. "Go get your drink, Bones. Wish I could join you."

McCoy hesitates. It's still a struggle to keep himself from lunging at Jim.

"Maybe another time," he manages at last.

"Maybe."

And it's true, McCoy thinks, walking back to his quarters. There will be this 'other time.' He just somehow knows that. Not tomorrow and not next week, but he and Jim will be drinking together again sometimes. When the first pain is gone, they will probably bond deeper over this. Will trade stories. Memories. Because they are chosen brothers, and that's the way things are in a family.

He wishes he could hate Jim, hate Spock, hate anyone but himself.

He walks into his cabin and falls on his bed, exhausted. Spock's scent still lingers on the pillows. McCoy suddenly feels sorry for Jim, honestly, sincerely sorry, because that's something Jim will never have. He closes his eyes, burying his face in the scent, striving to commit it to memory, terrified that the day will come when won't remember it anymore.

He'd probably have to kill himself on that day.

'_Leonard. I love you.'_

"I love you, too, Spock. Wherever you are. I love you, too."

* * *

Fin


End file.
